


A Million Flowers May Bloom

by infallibledreamers (shiningangelmel)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningangelmel/pseuds/infallibledreamers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris realises she might miss another certain gentleman, just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not at all newsworthy

**Author's Note:**

> I been wanting to write a historical fiction for a while and wartime is one of my favourite eras. This story is set in fictional Central City, Ohio in early 1940s. I had to do a little bit of research because I only know most things from a Australasia position in WWII. Hopefully I'm fairly accurate. My third fic and I'm still not good at titles, so I used a random lyric from a song called a million roses.

_December 1943_

Iris West stared vacantly around her own apartment devoid of Christmas cheer. She should have bought a tree. Iris can imagine it placed it in the corner or by the window. No matter how small, it would have been humble yet proudly adorned. But there was no point regretting it now. She sighs and falls back on to her bed. The quietness was starting to get to her.

 

Thinking about her family had become a common occurrence since she’s left home, especially this time of year. Joe West had promised to visit her. But his trip was delayed due to a case taking precedence. Iris understood. Her dad had to work to keep his status. But that didn't stop her from missing him.

 

Wally not here to celebrate Christmas only added to her loneliness. He had probably already in the middle of the warzone and Iris couldn't bring herself to imagine the potentially life threatening situations he was putting himself in. All she wanted was for him to be safe. He was her kid brother. But when he had surpassed her in height and build at age thirteen, Iris knew it wouldn't be an easy feat to protect him forever.

 

The bed creaked as she turned onto her side. Her eyes fell on the pristinely folded letter on the stool by her bedside.

 

Staring at the small scribbled Santa and read the final few words again for the third time that day, 'Have a Wonderful Christmas. Always thinking of you.'

 

Iris realized she might miss another certain gentleman, just a little. 

 

_February 1942_

The thing that struck Iris about working in a newspaper was no one wanted her to do anything important. The most they let her do was organise the articles or run reports from one journalist to another. But she was itching to write. Her editor brushed it off, giving her more menial tasks. That’s how she was stuck trying to organize a photographer for the new crime journalist.

 

Barry Allen, the new journalist had just transferred in after working 3 years as some sort of hotshot consultant with the cops. Iris was a little peeved that a man that had little journalistic experience was already writing pieces before her. But what could she do, her college degree seemed to mean nothing in the long run.

 

Iris’ annoyance at the task was not only exasperated by Barry Allen, but also by the lack of staff. Picture News only had four photographers. Of those photographers, three had enlisted leaving one very busy man who didn’t have any time to even listen to Iris.

 

“Mr. Allen?” She approached the journalist’s desk, to tell him that he wouldn’t have a photographer for his story. “I’m sorry but our photographer’s very busy at the moment and cannot accompany you today.” Iris strongly stated, prepared to face the brunt of his annoyance.

But rather than replying, Barry continued pushing more papers out the way mumbling to himself, “… I know I wrote it here somewhere.”

Iris wanted to warn Mr. Allen about the pile placed haphazardly placed on the edge of the table. But his elbow had already brushed past and she grit her teeth as the papers fell.

 

“Found it,” he excitedly claimed as he picked up the address that had flown to the floor. She scrunched her eyebrows, not expecting that response, and quickly bent down to help him clean up. “Umm… Thank you so much.”

 

He looked up from the scattered papers when everything was collected and placed back on the table, eyelashes almost grazing his eyebrows.

“Well, I am not quite sure if you heard me,” Iris began once again.

“Oh… um…” he rubbed the back of his neck trying to remember what she had said, “well I can usually take my own pictures so I wouldn’t be worried.”

 

“Thank you for understanding, Mr. Allen.” Iris nodded impressed by his civility. From everything she had seen, Barry Allen was polite and kind from afar. But never having spoken before, she wasn’t certain.

“However, if I’m needing somebody to accompany me on my first article, would you care to join me?”

“I’m not saying you need any accompaniment.”

Barry looked down in embarrassment, “Oh sure.”

 

“But if you really in need of someone on your first assignment.” What was the harm of actually doing some proper journalist work.

 

His face lit up, “thank you, Miss West.”

“You know my name?”

“Sure, I’ve been here for three days.” He nonchalantly slipped on his austere jacket as if it was common knowledge.

 

Barry, although long legged and walked at quick pace, slowed in step with Iris. She was grateful but wondered how much further they actually had to walk. “It’s just around the corner,” he assured her.

Having seen the address, Iris had a good idea that where they were heading was the pub on 3rd street.

 

“There was a riot here last night,” Barry filled Iris in as she looked around the trashed bar. “I’m supposed to write about the unrest due to the war.” Iris rolled her eyes; the editor had been asking all reporters to write in relation to the war no matter their departments. “But only two people at most three were fighting, most moved out of the way, most likely sauced.”

“How do you know that?”

“See how the scuff marks and foot prints are really only two sets of prints, and the tables generally all pushed back.”

 

Impressed, Iris turned to bartender who was cleaning the glasses to confirm Barry’s theory.

“Above my pay grade,” the bartender shrugged, “But sure wasn’t a riot.”

 

Barry paced around the room taking pictures and Iris, interested, follows his movement. He finally decides to head back. “The cops keep me in the know,” he tells Iris as he laughed embarrassedly at the lack of a story here, “So hopefully, a better story comes up. Not that I wish that there was more crime!”

Iris nodded finishing his thought, “just something more newsworthy.”

 

Barry becomes agitated when a man on the sidewalk starts calling out profanities and chiding him for hanging with a black broad. Avoiding the confrontation, he softly pulled Iris’ arm as they walked faster.

“Don’t listen to them, Miss West.” He said quietly still walking, “You’re a beautiful and dignified lady.”

“Are you making a pass at me?”

Barry instantly became flustered, caught himself as he tripped over his own feet.  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come of that way.”

It was fleeting and Iris had covered her mouth delicately with her hand, but Barry could swear she laughed at his expense. He couldn't help but marvel at the sight, a hint of a smile forming on his face.

 

_April 1942_

Spending her free moments at the paper with Mr. Allen had become an integral part of her day. When he was excited about a story, he would ramble on before murmuring an apology. Iris didn’t mind. She enjoyed talking to Barry.

 

Occasionally when work was light, she allowed herself to follow him on his leads, convincing herself that it was just to gain more experience.

 

 

"Do you have someone back home?" He asked one day as he sat at his desk when Iris had brought him the photographs from the docks. She had pulled up a chair giving her self a strict five minutes to converse with him. She had told him about leaving home in Cleveland, hoping for some better opportunities for women like her in Central City.

 

"To be quite honest," Iris didn't know if she should mention this, would Barry Allen judge her? She truly hoped not, "I'm a little scared of marriage. Being married to someone, becoming a housewife..."

He looked up meeting her awaiting gaze after having avoided eye contact. He sighed. Iris was confused. Was he was relieved she didn't have a fiancée or exasperated at her words?

 

“I have to get back to work,” she stood up annoyed.

“Wait,” he called out as she turned to walk away but Iris didn’t turn around.

 

 

Barry was walking towards the editor’s office, one afternoon. His gaze completely on his notes, that he hadn’t noticed Iris exiting.

 

He collided into her shoulder and she fell swiftly to the ground. He immediately dropped down to help her up, apologizing profusely.

 

“No problem, Mr. Allen.” She took his hand and he pulled her up.

“We all right?” he murmured unsure.

Iris could sense he wasn’t just referring to right now. He was hoping he’d been forgiven. Honestly she had let him off the hook much earlier, she wasn’t one to hold a grudge. “We’re fine Mr. Allen.”

 

She gave a most reassuring smile before moving out of the way to let him past.

 

He didn’t move forward, instead he just stared dejectedly at Iris, before saying, “Sorry for making a jerk of myself.” Iris didn’t really think that way. But to him her thoughts on his character obviously mattered.

 

“It’s fine,” Iris tried to give another reassuring smile and subtly nodded at his notes, “don’t you have to go see Mr. Bridge?”

“Oh. Umm… Yes.” He slapped the notes on the palm of his hand and decided to finally walk past.

 

 

Linda Park, another female employed by the paper sat with Iris at the local diner. She had started much earlier than Iris and like her had still to get a byline. Occasionally, they would grab dinner together before heading home. She was one of the few people Iris considered a friend.

 

“I think Mr. Allen’s a little keen on you.”

“That’s just some line you’re being fed,” Iris brushed it off.

“You guys are in cahoots though right? Linda was persistent and curious, her gaze noticing Iris’ avoidance.

“There’s no such thing!” She snapped,  “We’re not even friends.”

“You got to ease up Iris,” Linda rolled her eyes, “he sometimes asks about you, I know you’re close.”  She wasn’t buying a word Iris said no matter how much she continued to deny it.

 

“In my book, even if you do like him, its not going to go anywhere,” her words struck a chord with Iris, she suddenly wanted her to be quiet, “it’s just a pipe dream.”

 

Iris took a sip of her coffee, tasting a little bit bitterer in her mouth.


	2. Starry Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a crummy day.

_May 1942_

“Mornin’ Miss West,” Iris turns to see Barry smiling at the corner of the street. He ran to catch up to her, his jacket flapping as he maneuvered around busy people.

Iris stopped before entering the building waiting for him, holding back a smile as he finally caught up. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Iris?”

“Sorry Iris.” She was pleased to hear it roll of his tongue.

“I’ve got to say you’re mighty fast.”

“I ran a little in school, as a sport.” he grinned proudly and pushed open the door for Iris to enter.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, as he takes a deep sigh. Iris lifts her eyebrows waiting for him to form the words but he decided against it. After a three second staring match, Barry nods a silent goodbye and walks off to his desk.

 

 

“See,” Linda elbowed her as she walked towards her own workplace, “you can’t say he’s not smitten.”

“What does that matter?” Iris shrugged, “Like you said, its not going nowhere.”

Linda smirked, as if she was all knowing, “Even then, who says you can’t have a little fun.”

She avoided the subject by pretending to busy herself with the letters on her desk she assumed were the editorial letters.

 

“Fine,” Linda rolled her eyes at her dismissive attitude. “We’ll see who was right.”

 

 

Barry’s out during lunch and doesn’t return for most of the afternoon. Iris assumed he’s out on a lead. There’s a part of her that wishes he had asked her to join him. Not to spend time with him, she tells herself, just to relieve some boredom that came with the repetitiveness of her work.

 

 

When he returns, he looks beat. His body exudes tiredness as he fell into his chair.

 

Before she leaves for the day, she lingers over his desk, a sympathetic smile grazing her lips as she tapped it to catch his attention.

“Sure looks like you’ve had a crummy day?”

“What gave it away?” he rubbed his tired eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“You’re sad mug, for one,” she teased.

He half laughed and leaning back in his chair to look up at Iris.

“Just got some bad news.”

‘What?” Iris was curious.

“Ah, nothing important.” He knew she wasn’t one to let things go that easily. “Just really put through the wringer today.”

 

“You leaving now?” Barry changed the subject noticing Iris held her coat in her arms.

He probably should remain back; he looked at the very few scattered reporters working under dull lamps but had in the moment suggested he walk her to the bus stop.

Iris grinned; Barry was really big on chivalry wasn’t he? She agreed, “That’d be swell.”

 

“About what I asked…” Iris looked up him as he cupped his chin in his hands, hesitating. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I understood what you meant.”

Iris finally placed the conversation being back on the topic of marriage, “Oh. That’s fine. I mean if I found the right guy I would probably settle down.”

His hands slipped in his trouser pockets, and he looked up at the early night sky to hide his smile. “And the right guy would probably not hold you back, so there’d be nothing to be scared of.”

Her eyes widened and she changed the topic off her, “ You’re young, why are you thinking about marriage?”

“I’m stuck on someone,” he admitted turning his head towards her. She tried to talk her mind out of it. But even in the dimly lit street corner, Iris could tell that he meant her by the way he was softly looking at her, “and someday, I would like to marry her.”

 

She can’t decipher which heart if not both of theirs were beating so fast. She could kiss him right here, just lean up and peck his lips. The thought entered her mind.

 

“Would you like to grab dinner? There’s a diner a block from here.” Iris knew the place; it was the one her and Linda went to regularly.

 

She scrunched her lips as she thought about the offer, “I don’t think that’d be wise.” The bus was 100 yards away, “How do you see that situation playing out? I sit across from you in a booth and watch everyone ridicule both you and me?”

 

The bus pulled up, his lips downturned into a frown, apologetic, “No…I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

 

“Getting on?” The bus driver, a burly man grunted disapprovingly. He scowled at them. “Otherwise I’m leaving ya.”

 

“Sorry Barry, the next one isn’t for another two hours.” Barry took a deep breath.

 

She hesitated, wanting not to be the reason for the look on his face.

 

It was quick barely a second. She kissed his cheek gracefully grazing the corner of his lip before jumping on the bus. She paid the scowling driver and walked to the back of the bus.

 

Barry stood dazed as the bus took off. He mussed his hair as a smile started to form. The stars seemed a little brighter in the night sky and he slipped his hands back into pockets and walked back to the newspaper office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its so short but oohh!! not necessarily a first kiss but kind of right? Also what had Barry so down that day? Also you guys don't mind if i make this a little more mature right with sexual references, can't promise I'll be able to write them but I will try in the upcoming chapters.


	3. To love, to trust

_May 1942_

“Hello, Iris,” His eyes lit up when she walked past him the next morning. She looked up to meet his eyes, she grins.

“Mr. Allen.” She nods. A cute look of confusion, at her sudden formality, made Iris bite her lip. He was decked out today in what Iris assumed was a brand new shirt or at least what the boy kept solely for occasions such as church, which must mean his job today entailed making a good impression. “You’re looking spiffy today, did you need something?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to trail me on my story today. I would really like the company.”

She graciously replied, “I have to talk to Mr. Bridge but if there’s nothing of importance for me to do, I don’t see why not.”

 

Mr. Bridge was not happy with it, but he had no good reason to deny it, “He better deliver an amazing story if both your minds are on it.”

 

So Iris met Barry out front, waiting against the lamppost, a new fedora on his head and the same grey austere jacket. He looks delighted to see her join him. “Was almost about to leave.” He said as he starts to walk with her, “amazing timing.”

Iris’ stops herself from smiling. Barry was excited today. “Lets just go.”

 

 

“So what are we doing here?” Grey clouds had gathered in the sky when they had arrived, and Iris was afraid it was going to rain.

“A child and his mother were murdered in this building, it was a very big case a six months ago.” He points up at the tall building they now stood in front of. “The police are shutting the case, mainly because the gun was never found, and Mr. Bridge wants me to write an article about the inadequacy of the police department.”

“Hmm…” She takes it all in and looks around.

 

“Do you mind if we interview a few of the neighbors to see if they can shed some information?”

 

 

Iris and Barry walked out of the building dejected. It was pelting down, they had not beaten the rain and their interviews revealed nothing, other than most people were jerks. Iris got the door shut in her face three times; one particularly angry man didn’t even let her speak before he mumbled profanities under his breath as soon as he opened the door.

 

She had a strong backbone and let it go, but wondered how different it would have been if Barry had come alone.

 

 

They stood under the awning waiting for the rain to die down, “Sorry, Iris. This was a waste of time.”

 

“It’s fine,” she graciously replied, “It’s good to be thorough.”

 

“I’m sure I missed something,” he says worked up. “I can’t write an article solely focusing on the failure of the cops, when it’s just as much my fault.”

 

Iris finally understood, “so this was also your case?”

 

“Yeah,” Barry was embarrassed to admit this to Iris but somehow he thought she would understand.

“You tried your best, you still continued to try.” She reminds of the grueling hour they spent, “You should not feel so guilty.”

 

“I can’t help but think I made a goof because my assessment was clouded.” He scratched his head dejectedly.

 

Iris stared at him, concerned with his self-blame, “I doubt that.”

 

“You don’t know anything about me.” He murmured.

 

“Sure I do, Barry, you’re the most perceptive person I know!” Barry was surprised by her insistence, “You’re amazing and kindhearted, I know that you would’ve tried your damn hardest.”

 

Barry took a very deep sigh, he didn’t want Iris to think so highly of him to only be disappointed,  “My mother was murdered when I was young,” he admitted staring at the sky, the rain not giving any sign of letting up. “I was with her. I can’t say I had a clear mind at all coming in to all this, that’s why I stopped with the consulting.”

 

“Barry…” Iris didn’t know what to say, she had thought that being an immensely kind and talented person hadn’t had to go through any hardship, she was wrong in a big way. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he looked back down with a half smile.

 

Iris wanted to hug him, comfort him, to tell him he was immensely brave, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead she stared at the ground, kicking her worn out leather pumps.

 

She watched as water rushed down the small gap in the road rapidly and fell in down the catchment area.

 

She furrowed her eyebrows; the water was splitting before falling through.

 

“Barry!” she called to him even though he was right next to her.

“Hmm?”

“There’s something wedged there.” She pointed in the direction but didn’t expect him to run through the rain to check it out. “Barry!”

There was no saving his coat when he pulled out a handkerchief and put his hand in the gap, whole arm getting instantly sodden.

 

“Take a gander at this,” Barry says excited pulling out a gun, holding it carefully in the cloth, he stood up and faced Iris’ direction not caring at all that he was drenched.

 

Iris rushes to him, holding her hands above her hand, which didn’t offer much shelter.

 

 “I mean I can’t say for sure if this even related, but this can at least keep the case open.” He was smiling so widely as the rain continued to fall, but then took notice of Iris’ own appearance, drenched tendrils sticking to her face, “Oh… So sorry Iris.”

 

He slipped of his coat, maneuvering the evidence between his hands, and put it over her head and let her hold it in place.

 

It wasn’t doing much, Iris giggled, “This is so exciting Barry.”

 

Barry stared at her, they were both completely drenched and if anyone was to come out into this godforsaken rain would think they were complete fools, but ‘God she was beautiful.’ He simpers and placed his free hand on her cheek, “Can I?”

 

She sighed hesitantly, but nodded, screw the consequences, and Barry grinned as he leant down. Her hand on his chest as the gap between their lips closed. It was cautious and chaste. Just the simple movement of lips, Barry’s lips upturned as he smiled into it.

 

They pulled away after what felt like ages, “Maybe we should get the evidence out of the rain.”

 

“Oh… um... yeah.”  They both made a mad rush for the awning.

 

 

_August 1942_

There was a subtle knock at the door, Iris could only guess it was Barry, but it was the early afternoon on a Saturday.

 

He’d been coming around a lot, not that Iris minded. Iris would eat little at the Diner with Linda and head home, Barry came round for supper to late in the night always to hers. He didn’t feel it was safe for her to be out that late. Just to talk, well sometimes they would kiss. A little after midnight Barry usually slipped on his coat and check if the coast was clear before he pecked her lips cheekily and left.

 

Barry’s face beamed when she opened the door. He rubbed his hands together and talked animatedly as he walked into her apartment, “Iris! Although the gun itself didn’t have any fingerprints, the rain and all, the bullet and the chamber had some distinct ones! The case isn’t closed they’re checking against the suspects. We did it!”

 

She hugged him sharing his enthusiasm, “You mean you did it.”

 

“I mean we did it.”

 

Out of breath from his long spiel, he sat down on at the small stool next to her dining table slash her make-do work desk. She realized she hadn’t cleared any of the papers she was writing that day. “What’s this?” he asked picking up the sheet and started to read it curiously.

 

“That’s nothing.” She brushes it off; she didn’t want to admit to him that she wrote her own articles that were never going to get published.

 

“This is on the war efforts on the home front.” Barry said reiterating the title and he realized there were many different papers underneath pertaining to hundreds of articles, “How did you have time to research all this?”

“I did those just to stay in practice, some I did when I went with you but many others I had to research on my own time. But it’s all kinda worthless isn’t it?” She laughed self-consciously.

 

“No, it’s not. Ms. Cresson is writing for lifestyle, I’m sure you could write for any department in that paper, even my beat.”

 

Iris knew that was unlikely but blinked affectionately at his praise, she was pretty sure he wasn’t that naive.

 

“Do you mind if I read it?” he asked candidly.

“Umm…” she pursed her lips before finally agreeing, this was Barry. He wasn’t going to judge her, was he?

 

She bit her fingernails as Barry read through the article. He finally looked up at her, “Iris this is amazing!”

 

“Thanks Barry, but I know you’re not serious.”

 

“But I mean it. I know crummy when I see it and this is far from it. I’m serious about you even being able to take over my beat.”

 

She glides on to his lap, her skirt lifted slightly to her knees as both her legs hung of either side of his, “Aww, you’re such a sweetheart Bear.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and gave him a kiss. Open mouthed and sweet that left Barry breathless.

 

There kiss turned heated and Barry held her waist at the thin belt. Her legs were still wrapped around his pelvis when he stood and when they fell on to the bed, both breathless and Iris giggled as Barry missed the pillow and head hit the wall, Barry chuckled at her silliness. Neither knew where it was going. All Barry could think about was Iris laughter, her smile and the sweet sounds she accidently made when he kissed at her neck. He said it then.

 

Maybe she was sappy, but Iris knew she loved him. She imagined, one day they could get hitched and live in a little house on the edge of Central City. But in this moment, she couldn’t think about the ridiculousness of her thoughts, just that Barry had whispered I love you to her.

 

Barry didn’t leave by midnight; he remained with his arms wrapped blissfully and protectively around Iris’ delicate waist until the first rays of sunlight streamed through the thin curtains.

 

 

Iris was dropping of Barry’s copy of the Sunday paper that the entire reporters’ staff was meant to revise when she noticed it. She puts down the stack of papers on his desk as she tilts her head to read the upside down title more correctly. There was the her article lying on top of his desk, all typed up and ready for the final layout.

 

Barry came out of the editor’s office and approached Iris.

“Good mornin’ Ms. West.” He greeted coyly, smiling at his own formality in the workplace.

 

“I can’t believe you Barry Allen.” She was almost in tears. A few reporters looked up from their desks intrigued by what may have been going on. Iris lowered her voice, “Oh god, I’m a fool.”

 

Barry reached out to place a hand on her shoulder but she avoided his touch. “No…” he tried to reason.

 

“No, you’re the bigger fool, if you had asked, I would’ve given it to you. Hell, I would’ve given everything to you.” She wipes her stray tears and shakes her head as she storms off.

 

“Hey,” she hears Linda call as she hurried past her. “What’s…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer chapter to make up for my short one. Sorry about ending the chapter here. Barry's not a bad guy in this story, please don't hate him or me... Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to tell me your thoughts. Also sorry about my horrible writing especially when it comes to sexual scenes even if all I did was insinuate it!!! *hides in embarrasment*


	4. Goodbye, Mr. Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left little clues as to what was coming in previous chapters. After reading this chapter, you’ll probably realise what they were.

_August 1942_

Anger, disappointment and regret are what she felt as she cried in the small alley next to the office. She needed to get back she realized; she can’t let this affect her work. She wiped off the tears, and walked back in head held high; mimicking the stoic and unfazed appearance Iris had learnt from her father.

 

Iris saw him pacing, and completely avoided his eye line and instead went straight back to work to distract herself.

 

That didn’t last long, before she could even walk a few meters, Barry held her wrist, “Can I talk to you?” he had noticed her return, and she cursed in her mind.

“No, I’m busy.” She pulled her hand from his and went to find Linda.

 

 

“Iris, what happened between you and Barry Allen?” Why couldn’t she let this go? She didn’t need a grilling from Linda at this moment.

“There’s nothing going on,” she lied, “I just got angry for a moment.”

“At Mr. Allen?” she continued the interrogation, and clapped her hands together as if she had put it all together, “I told you he carried a torch for you, did you guys…”

“No we didn’t.” Iris just wanted her to stop talking.

“Don’t be such a cold fish.” She could sense her annoyance, but at this moment, Iris could care less. Linda eventually left, exasperated by Iris’ disregarding of her.

 

Barry was at her door again for the third time that week. She hadn’t let him in once. He knocked softly, but spoke loud enough to carry his voice to her. “Iris, please open the door. Please let me explain.”

 

Iris remained quiet, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking at the floor. She wasn’t ready to speak to him, nor see him. She didn’t need him seeing how devastated she was for him to see her as just another girl he could use.

 

Barry was making too much noise, what would her neighbors think. She finally got up, wiped her tears with the sleeve of her night coat, and made the decision to open the door.

 

“Iris,” he sighed in relief when he saw her.

 

She didn’t let him speak,  “Do you get your kicks out of hurting people?” That was harsh she realized. But she made no attempt to take back what she had said.

 

When she was young, some white boys would spit at her and call her names. When she was in College, they made her not go to the library during normal hours, as she was an unwelcome distraction. But Barry had hurt her more than any of that ever did, and she wished it wasn’t because she loved him. Fresh tears were starting to form in her eyes.

 

“I can’t do this to myself. It was never going to work out for us, I was fooling myself.” Barry’s eyes also glistened with tears, but he made no attempt to interrupt her,  “just leave. Please…” She begged. “I don’t know if you were lying, but if you loved me at all, please just leave.”

 

“Okay Iris, if that’s what you want,” he dejectedly said, he made an attempt to wipe her tears but she moved out of his touch, “please don’t cry anymore.”

He hated the feeling that he could cause Iris so much pain. So he left.

 

 

Iris knew she couldn’t avoid him forever; all she could do was put on a strong front and get on with her job.

“Iris!” Linda rushed to her excited and grabbed her arms when she entered the building, “I can’t believe you did it!”

 

“What?” she asked confused.

“You got a byline!” Linda continued, “Have to say I’m a little jealous but the article is amazing.”

“A byline?” Iris took the paper that Linda was holding still in disbelief.

“Flip to page five. No fooling, that’s your name right there.”

She was writing, the headline read the same as the article she had written and in smaller letters in the left hand corner was ‘Iris West’. Her hand covered her mouth in surprise, how had this happened, had Barry done this?

 

“Ms. West.” She heard a loud booming voice called her, and she looked up to see Mr. Bridge calling her to his office.

 

“How did this happen?” Iris asked as soon as Mr. Bridge closed his office door and took a seat.

“I’m not too pleased about this myself. Mr. Allen went behind my back to the printers.” He shook his head throwing down the paper on his desk, “I already bust his chops about it.”

 

Iris held in her tears, this was Barry.

 

“Anyway, I called you in here because Mr. Allen vouched for you and you’re taking over his beat.”

“What?” Everything was so chaotic, “Please don’t have fired him. He’s one of the best you’ve got.”

“I didn’t fire him, he hung it up.” Iris’ mind was completely muddled, what was Barry thinking. “Don’t be too keen, it’ll be a very temporary basis.”

_September 1942_

Although Mr. Bridge had said her role was temporary, Iris tried her best to keep proving herself and remain in the position. But still couldn’t prevent herself from wondering about Barry, why he had quit and where he had gone. She had visited his apartment but there was no sign of him inside. She had left when a middle-aged lady carrying a paper bag full of groceries eyed her suspiciously before entering the apartment down the hall.

 

Over a month had gone by, before she returned from the paper to find Barry Allen sitting on the floor. His legs were long enough that even bent reached the wall of the narrow hallway.

“My neighbor said you had come by.” He smiled softly, pushing himself of the ground with one hand and slipping off his fedora. Iris heart skipped a beat when she saw him, “Can I come in?”

 

She opened her door and Barry followed her in. She was still overwhelmed in his presence, and him nervously flittering around before taking a seat on her trunk of clothes as she illuminated the room with candlelight and sat across from him on the bed, “Where were you?”

 

“Sorry, I was visiting my dad,” he softly murmured, “I had to tell him before I left.”

 

Iris didn’t miss the word ‘left’ even though he spoke so quietly. “You’re leaving?”

He laughed self-consciously, “Yeah, only for a few years. I was recruited to be a runner.”

“A runner? You’re going to war?” she was taken aback, and really hoped he would deny that idea and say it was something else. But he didn’t.

“Yes” he admitted twiddling his thumbs, he knew this for a while now, but telling Iris had been really hard for him.

“My track records reached the army. They approached me. Of all people, back last May” He scoffed, pretending to be proud for both their benefits, but Iris could see a childlike fear in his eyes. He was scared, he needed her to tell him it’ll be all right. “But it’s not as bad it sounds. This ain’t a trench war like my father’s time.” Iris could tell he still trying to convince himself.

 

“Barry,” she reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping his nervous fidgeting, “Come here.” He moved on to the bed next to her, and she held his hand in hers, “you’re going to be alright, whatever you do in life, I know you’ll be just fine.”

 

He gazed lovingly at her; she was the most amazing person that he had ever met. He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry about not telling you about the paper, if I did you would’ve stopped me.”

She chuckled half-heartedly at that, “I would’ve, that was a foolish thing to do.”

“It wasn’t though, whenever I read your articles, I know I made the smart choice.” She looked up at him, and the look on his face was one of immense pride.

“Anyway, I should be sorry for getting so mad.”

“No I deserved that.”

 

Iris realized then what Barry was doing; he was distracting himself and her from his impeding departure. Thinking about it now, Iris fell back into silence.

 

“When I come back, would you marry me?” Breaking the silence, the question took Iris completely by surprise.

 

She had imagined it, but it felt like an impossible future.

 

“Someday we’ll be married, have kids. You’ll work at the paper; I won’t take that away from you when I return and I probably couldn’t anyway because you’re a natch and the best reporter to write for that paper. I’ll go back to the police, I think they’ll have me.” Barry was smiling but eyes glistened with tears as he spoke, “When I look at you, I can’t help but I see my whole life with you.”

“Barry…” she shook her head in disbelief.

“I’m going to ask again when I’m back.”

She laughed at his persistence.

 

‘Oh god, I’ll miss this’ is all Barry thought as he heard the sound.  He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in for a kiss. Tears started to mix with the movement of lips. Neither wanted it to end, but both knew it was coming.

 

Barry decided to remain there till he had to leave the next morning. Iris was holding onto his shirt as if it was a lifeline, Barry kissed the top of Iris’ head as he held her in his arms. She soon drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides in corner* sorry i keep putting them through so much pain.


	5. Thinking of You Part 1

_September 1942_

Barry stared at her for a while as if he was imprinting the image of her into his mind, his face softened into a smile and he kissed her cheek. “I’m going to miss you Iris West.” He dragged her name felt like he wanted to say for the final time.

“Good bye, Barry Allen.” Iris smiled weakly and said a quiet goodbye

 

He left that morning to catch the train to the army base.

 

There was no change to her routine when Barry had gone. In the morning she would go to work on the earliest bus, research and write articles till the final few reporters left, she went to the diner to grab dinner; often too exhausted to prepare her own and then she went home. Then it all repeated itself the next day.

 

_February 1943_

It was early February, when Iris got her first letter. She took the letter into her apartment before shrugging off her worn wool coat and sitting on her bed to read it. Although not the original, a smile graced her lips at seeing Barry’s handwriting.

_January 29 th, 1943_

_Dearest Iris,_

_I’ve arrived safely on this small Island in the Pacific. There’s so much more trees here than in the city and so much sand._

 

She smiles while reading the letter about interesting things he noted down. The difference between there and everything Iris has ever known. He only says the good, nothing of concern. Iris wonders if that is truly the case, or if it was just selective for her sake. Either way his adventures bring a smile to her face.

_I will be able to tell you so much more about my enthralling adventure when this chaos ceases. Till then, I’ll continue to do my best and return home safe._

_~~I love you~~ _

_Love, Barry_

 

She folded the note and held it against her chest. Wet droplets formed on her skirt and she realised that she was crying.

 

She wiped her tears with the sleeve and scoffed at herself, “Barry Allen, at least your not here to see me act like a real fool.”

 

_January 1944_

_Have a Wonderful Christmas._

_Always thinking of you,_

_Barry_

Christmas had come and gone and the New Year had just begun marking over a year since Barry’s departure. Iris tried not to focus on his absence from day to day. She went about her day as usual, and as busy as it was, there wasn’t much time to for it anyway.

 

It was the quiet moments - the bus ride home where her mind ignored the noise around her, the silence in her home, when her mind wandered to the War, to the news of victories and losses she had to write about.

 

To Wally, who had once written to her about his excitement and fear piloting a fighter jet. After that there was no more correspondence from him. She knew Joe would get word of any word of him; the war at least owed his family that. She prayed every night for his safety; she prayed her father would not be at her door with bad news.

 

Her mind wandered to Barry. Iris knew she would not be the one to get notice of injury or death. She wondered if she would even be able to handle it. His letters at the least informed her of his safety and gave her hope.

 

A knock at her door, pulled her from her thoughts, and she opened it cautiously. Her father stood at the door, tall and sturdy, and Iris face dropped at the possibility of bad news, “Hello, Darling.” A wide grinned formed on his face, “Happy New Year.”

 

Iris gave a father a tight hug and he kissed her forehead, “So sorry I couldn’t make it down for Christmas.”

 

“You’re here now,” Iris grin was wide and childlike in the presence of her father. “Any news from Wally?”

 

“He wrote a letter a while back, he’s fighting in the Pacific.” Joe made his way in closing the door behind him and throwing his bag by the door, “but no other news, guess that’s not all bad.”

 

“I also picked up today’s paper,” he said sitting at the table, “Care to gander at what I saw?”

 

“Dad,” Iris whined, she hadn’t informed him yet of her promotion of sorts, and Joe was skeptical as to why.

 

“Not saying I’m not mighty proud of you,” He was proud, his daughter had a voice that was being heard. He had allowed her to go to College knowing how hard it would be for her, because he knew she was driven, she had the gumption to get to where she wanted to go. “I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me?”

 

“I was going to tell you, It just slipped my mind,” how was she supposed to tell him that she still hadn’t felt she earned the place of her own accord.

“Well, I’m proud of you darling.”

 

“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled softly, and moved towards the kitchenette, “Are you hungry? I’ll fix you up something real quick.”

 

“That’d be good.”

 

Iris felt infinitely less lonely having her dad here.

 

 

Iris placed the sandwiches on the table.

 

“Whose this Barry Allen kid?” he asked as he picked up a letter that Iris had been writing.

 

“What?” she asked flustered, “no one, just a reporter that used to work at the paper?”

 

“Iris, why are you writing letters to this soldier?” Joe was stern, “Don’t tell me you’re involved with this man.”

 

“Dad,” she sat down in front of him, “He’s a good man and I really do like him.”

 

 “You really think some jerk reporter makes a pass at you, they’re any different. Iris, you’re smarter than that.”

 

“I am smarter than that!” She raises her voice.

 

“You’re hardly accepted outside of this state yet,” He reasoned with Iris, “Even if he’s smitten for you, you really think it’s going to be easy.”

 

“I’m prepared for the hardships.” Headstrong and indignant, her father’s words only reiterated what she’s already known, “I know how people will treat me, and I’m not going to stand down from this.”

 

He sighs, there was no point arguing with Iris when her mind was set, “Well I gave you my two cents worth.”

 

_March 1946_

In September 1945 Japanese forces surrendered to the Allied forces after Hiroshima. But still no word from Barry, his last letter came in May after news of the German surrender. It made Iris nervous.

 

It was 8pm and Iris had come home and was writing the article about speed of demobilization after the war, when there was an excited knock at her door. Iris looked at door, and put down the photographs of soldier protests she had received. “Coming,” she finished typing her current sentence.

 

When she opened the door, a soldier stood tall holding his cap at his torso, grinning widely. Iris’ eyes widened and her face broke out into a relieved grin.

 

“Happy to see me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this rushed feeling chapter. The next chapter will be Thinking of You Part 2 and will follow Barry's POV through the similar timeline.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and feel free to tell me what you think.


	6. Thinking of you part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter and severely unedited (sorry). Later I’ll come back and edit this. Just have to study a lot more starting tomorrow so wanted to get this out before I’m busy. When I’m busy, I also procrastinate a lot so I may still write.

_September 1942_

The train ride was long and the heat from the many soldiers packed into the one carriage made Barry pull at his pale olive collar. The day was nearing its end, and soon he knew he’d be on some foreign land far away from here, far away from Iris.

 

He remembered the last time he saw her. Everything about her was beautiful.  She was still in the clothes she wore the day before, her hair slightly disheveled but beautiful nonetheless. Her sweet almond eyes met his and he wanted to take it all in. Barry ran his thumb across her cheek as he smiled and lips graced her cheek. “I’m going to miss you Iris West.”

 

“Good bye, Barry Allen.”

 

_January 1943_

Barry sat in the tent on the beach that was won before his unit had arrived. Gun strapped to his back, he hoped he’d never have to use it. They had given them paper, told them to write home when they still had the chance.

 

He picked up the pencil and twirled it in his hand for a few seconds.

 

He wanted to tell her everything, his mind plagued with so many thoughts. But he can’t tell Iris about how hard, how truly terrifying this was. Although he was with others now, he was told he’d be alone. They trusted him more than radio to pass messages from base to base; they said he’d be a hero.

 

No matter what, he can’t tell Iris any of this. He wasn’t a fool, he knew Iris would know what was happening, but for him she didn’t need to worry.

 

_March 1943_

He was running, through jungle surroundings, determined to reach his destination in the next half hour. Speeding past trees, avoiding the downtrodden path that could mean previously travelled, he was truly alone.

 

He huffed, no time for a break, but he needed water, he rummaged through his pack, pulling out the flask, he grabbed the letter alongside it, reading it again.

 

 

_February 8 th, 1943_

_Dear Barry,_

_I hope this reaches you by your birthday, if it has, hope the day is an amazing one. You deserve it._

He thought of her smile, this was enough he thought to himself. He quickly folded the letter, gulped down some water and started running again.

_I believe in you. Please come home safe. Leads are not as fun to chase without you by my side._

Her words were motivation enough. Barry hastened his speed.

 

_December 1943_

Barry sat next to the other soldiers along the tree trunks, each having their own conversations; they enjoyed flapping their lips with the others to relieve boredom and tension. And right now they were having a meal, celebrating the fact that they had captured this area.

 

“So Barry, got a broad back home?” one man, Oliver they called him strong in build and stature asked.

 

“Not a broad but I do have someone I love. Her name’s Iris, like the flower.”

 

“Oohh lover boy here is smitten,” he threw his arm around Barry’s soldiers, “have ya confessed your love to this cookie Iris? No better time for rejection than right before you go off to war. No point in chickening out of that, good thing to give it a shot anyway.” He laughed obnoxiously in the way that he thought Barry could easily have been rejected.

 

He sure was a pistol, Barry courteously laughed, “I’m no chicken, I admit I was so afraid I was done for when I did but she’s truly amazing.”

 

The soldiers listening in on their conversation looked at one another.

 

“Nice going!” he heard from one soldier.

“That’s swell.”

“Seems like a keeper, lord knows I need me one of them to write to this Christmas.

 

It was almost Christmas now, Barry realised. He hadn’t even thought of the amount of time that had passed. Some days went by so fast, and other dragged on for ages, and few moments, very few, where things were so intense that everything seemed to slow down.

 

But it was Christmas, another Christmas away from home without his father, without Iris. He could imagine many more to come where he would be there, to give a small gift to Iris, spend time with her, their own little world of happiness where nothing affected them. He realised he wanted all these things even when it wasn’t Christmas.

 

“You thinking of your dame?” Oliver interrupted his thoughts.

Barry rubbed his hands together, “I’m always thinking of Iris.”

 

_January 1944_

Barry could tell the letter he was reading was written in two parts, the first a proud and happy component in which Iris tried to relay the exciting news happening around her but the second half took a turn into a deeper conversation that she was dying to get out but struggled without Barry there in person.

 

_I was simultaneously ecstatic and saddened by my father’s visit for the New Year. His words angered me although they come from a place of well meaning and experience. He loves me and he means the world to me. I too understood what he was saying Barry. I do love you, but sometimes I wonder if the world is too cruel for us. I’m sorry for burdening your mind._

He understood Iris’ concerns; her family was of utmost importance to her. But more than that, he could sense her fear of how their relationship would be taken, a white man and black woman. He truly believed that they could take it, endure it but questioned why they had to in the first place.

 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and recited in his head the message he had to relay.

_June 1945_

 

It was a clear day that day, their camp had heard of the victory in Germany. Barry hoped it was a sign that the end was also near in the Pacific. He was running four miles, the shortest distance this month.

 

He was not far from his starting point, possibly a mile, he didn’t have time to check. He heard rustling. Pulling out his gun from his holder, he was slow, and the shot pierced his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending on a cliffhanger. And sorry it's so short, it's just his timeline is shorter than Iris', just for dramatic flare... *hides*   
> Hope you guys still enjoyed seeing a bit of Barry's POV since they are separated. Back to Iris' next chapter.


	7. Never Lose Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking such a long time. I apologise in advance. I actually had more months planned to include in this chapter. But then I would've taken way too long to update.

_March 1946_

“Happy to see me?” Other than the proud stance and tired eyes, nothing had changed. “Our ship docked at Central City so I decided to come here before I headed home.”

She pulled him in for a hug, holding back tears of happiness.

“Thank God you’re safe.”

He smiled as Iris leaned away to take a good look at him, “I wanted to be back before Christmas. But we weren’t allowed on the first ship.”

 

“I’m just glad you’re back at least now.” He walked in and started eating the bread on the table. “Hungry? Want me to whip you up something?”

 

He nodded like a child, mouthful of bread.

 

Iris’ mind was put a little at ease having her little brother home.

 

Wally asked to stay for a few extra days before headed home. She was more than happy to let to him, having him there made her not think much about the absence of another soldier.

 

 

“Let’s go dancing.” Wally excitedly proclaimed when Iris came back from the paper, showing her the flier about Welcome Back Troops dance.

 

“Wally…” Iris tilts her head, not convinced from the flier that they would be welcome there.

“Please, I want to show off my sister, the Ace Reporter, to my mates.” He was so excited and so proud, Iris didn’t feel like pulling the rug from under him.

 

“Okay.”

 

“You’re Swell!”

 

Iris put on her best dress, one she has had little occasion to wear, a flowing pale blue piece, where the skirt ends at her knees. She spends time on some simple makeup and tames her hair back and out of her face.

Wally enters dressed in his soldiers’ uniform, and does up the buttons of jacket, “Wow!” Iris smiled at the compliment and pressed down on her the dress with her hands, “Shall we?”

 

They arrived at the hall arm in arm. Red Blue and White banners hung from the roof. Women in uniform sang songs on the stage.

 

“There’s the head of my unit,” Wally pointed out a tall dark muscular man, “Come on!”

He nodded in Wally’s direction, “West, over here.”

Wally and Iris manoeuvre through the crowd to greet him. “This is my sister, Iris West, you’ve probably read her name in Picture News.”

“Wally,” Iris whacked his chest. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

Wally proudly introduced Iris to more of his unit mates. It was fun Iris had to admit, they made jokes, asked about her work and even harmless flirting. One even offered her a dance. Iris kindly declined but Wally dragged her off to the dance floor anyway.

 

Her skirt sashayed with her twirling. Wally laughed as he also danced about on his toes. Her mind was finally off Barry for the night, she was here, living, enjoying herself, and suddenly she wasn’t. At first it started as just some guys giving contemptuous glares.

 

“Why are you folks here?” he sneers and stops Wally from dancing.

“We fought the war, we have every right to be here.

“We didn’t fight any war together, we protected our wives and families not your kind.

His hands grab his collar.

“Wally!” Iris grabs at the man’s hands, trying to pull them of her brother, he throws her to the floor. That’s when Wally punches him square in the jaw.

 

Wally’s friends jump to his defence. But so does the jerk’s. And that’s how the fight begun.

 

They were meant to celebrating peace and the end of fighting, Iris can’t help but wonder, as she heads home, dragging Wally along.

 

Iris lets Wally rest on his lap and strokes his arm, just like their mother used to do for them when they were children and either had gotten hurt.

“My jitterbug intimidated them.” Wally smiles to himself after a while.

“You knucklehead!” Iris laughs and smiles along. “I’m certain that was it.”

 

“But did you enjoy yourself?”

“What?”

“I mean before all that.”

“Why?” Iris asked, he seemed to be content if she just had said yes.

“Don’t know, but Iris, you’re looking real sad these days.”

She smiled at his concern, “Thanks Wally, I enjoyed myself.”

 

He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Is he a soldier?”

“What?”

“I know you were happy to see me but still a little disappointed when I turned up at your door weren’t you?”

She tries to protest, but Wally knew her sister.

 

“Many of us had to stay behind Iris.” How had this situation changed to Iris being the one receiving comfort, “If he’s one of them, I’m sure he’ll come home.”

 

Iris knew about the slowness the demobilisation effort was taking. Hell, she had just handed in her article about it.

 

As much as she hated it, she didn’t want to think of any other situation at the moment as the reason Barry was not yet home.

 

“It could take a while though. Don’t lose hope.”

 

 

Wally left that Saturday.

 

“Come visit me and dad sometimes.”

“I will.”

 

Iris was left alone again.


	8. A good day for a homecoming

_May 1946_

Iris imagines Barry returning countless times. He’d knock on her door, and that same dumb smile would start to form on his face when she opened it. Jumping into his arms, burying his head in the crook of her neck as he spun her around. But the longer time passed, the more and more other thoughts entered her mind about why Barry was not back. In these moments, she shook her head and tried to hold on to the tiny shred of hope she had.

 

One thing that kept her mind occupied was work. When she was chasing a story, she put in her whole and even the endless hours of research were a welcome distraction to Iris. But the morning she was station hounding the usual constable about the crimes that had occurred the night before, for the first time work turned out not to be distraction enough.

 

It been over three years since she saw him and his hair is slightly longer, his eyes downcast at whatever he held in his hands. He’d done what he had said, he’d gotten his job back at the CCPD. Out of everything she’d imagined, she never entertained the possibility Barry wouldn’t want to see her.

 

Before Barry looked up to see her, she quickly apologised to the constable and made her hasty exit from the station.

 

“I wanted to pull that rug straight off his head.” Iris laughs at Linda’s distaste for the reporter whose job she had taken, who had some rather uncouth words about it. They were walking from the office to the nearest bus stop. “But I’m not going to let it ruin this sweet chance. Lets go celebrate. I know a place.”

 

“I’m beat Linda,” Iris sighs and maintains her smile at her friend. “Maybe next time.”

 

“Oh come on, I’ve been trying to get you to meet this dreamboat for weeks” Linda was saying something about a guy she thought Iris might like as the bus pulled up, “He’s a dead hoofer but I reckon he’d like you.” But she wasn’t listening to Linda. Not when the next person off the bus was the man with a tall thin frame and underneath that brown hat, takes a deep intake of breath.

 

“Iris…” he murmurs.

 

“Okay,” Linda was smirking, the tension obviously alluding to more. There was a reason Iris didn’t entertain the guys that hit on her or that Linda tried to set her up with, “Mr. Allen, huh? You’re of the hook now.” Linda knew to get on the bus and leave them alone.

 

 

“You’re here,” he slips off the brown hat and holds it under his arm as continues to stare at Iris. Iris can only think of one reason he’s here, he actually did see her at the station. She had prayed he hadn’t, that he hadn’t seen her devastation. “How long have you been back?”

He looks at the ground, “I’ve been in Central City a little over a month now.”

 

Iris nods taking it in before turning away, She knew her own bus should come soon but she decides to walk to a little way home and catch the next bus when she can.

 

After a moment Barry catches up with her, matching her fast pace. Darn his long legs. “Iris. You don’t understand.”

“No I do. It’s been three years; obviously things would’ve changed. I’m not stupid enough to think I was that important to you.”

 

He caught her by the arms then, the hat falling to the ground as he stopped her from walking any further. He stares sadly at her like he wants to deny it. Instead he takes another deep breath as if he’s preparing for the worst. “I wish I could say nothing changed... But things have. And that’s why it was hard for me to see you. I’m sorry you had to see me at the station.”

 

He didn’t deny it, Iris thinks. She wills herself to remain cold, don’t cry. “Tell me something, if you hadn’t known I saw you at the station, would you even be here right now?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits honestly “The first thing I wanted to do when I came back was see you. But I didn’t because if you knew how much things have changed, you wouldn’t feel the same.”

 

“My feelings are my own, Barry. You can’t say how I feel.”

 

“I know, Iris. You can be mad; you can hate me if you wish. Just know I love you and you haven’t done anything wrong.” That’s all he needed her to know, at least that much. He couldn’t leave her thinking she wasn’t the most important thing in the world to him.

 

Barry drops his hands off her arms, letting her finally go and wait for the bus. He’s taken off guard when Iris doesn’t move and instead puts her hand on his face.

 

His heart races, it makes him question every decision he’d made since his return. He felt he had good reasons. But this was Iris. It was her hand that gently guides his face down to hers, her lips that press on his.

 

Their breaths were in sync as they pull apart. Barry eyes closed as he rests his forehead on hers.

 

Iris slender fingers trace the outline of his face, afraid it’s just an illusion, but no Barry is here with her. She closes her willing her tears not to fall.

 

All Barry can think about is how he doesn’t deserve her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you guys wait so long and sorry for ending the chapter here. But there's more to come, happy or sad, I can't say. Thank you for reading.


	9. I don't know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long. I kinda suck at the moment.

_May 1946_

 

He leans into her touch, oh how he missed this, his long fingers move to support her hand on his face, “Barry, Did you mean it?” Of course he loves her. But he stayed away for so long, letting her be sad and in the dark about him. Maybe he could have convinced himself if he hadn’t seen her that she was better of not knowing, that if he was gone, he wouldn’t have to tell her about how horrible war and he himself was. It was selfish he realised, it wasn’t for her or her feelings, it was for himself. To preserve that image of him in Iris’ mind, she didn’t need this burdensome version.

 

With the silence, her hand falls from his face and she takes a deep breath and wipes the stray tears that she could not control. “Sorry for acting like an idiot. You had a over a month, but I only realized yesterday.” She tries to say stoically, “So I think I deserve some time.”

 

“Iris…”

 

“I’m glad you’re okay Barry Allen.” Barry clasps his hands tightly to stop his fidgeting as she gives a soft smile. She tried to seem happy but her eyes betrayed her, her smile drops when she, trying to convince herself that it was better that this would be the end. “And I’m not angry. Well I am,” he smiles sadly at her honesty, “but it’ll go away.”

 

Barry’s picks up his hat, a stall for time, the material rough against his fingers, and the right words escape his mind. Everything was wrong, and he had no idea how to make it right.

 

“Mind if I walk you?”

 

“Barry…” It wasn’t a good idea. "You're not a child. You can't change your mind and expect everything else around you to fall into place."

 

Barry’s lips tug downward. Why couldn’t she let go?

“Do you want to come over?”

“You’re right Iris, I can’t keep doing this.”

Iris nods understandably and sighing gestures to let him walk her, “ok then just take me to my stop.”

 

They walk in silence, wait at the stop. Iris stares up the road whilst Barry kicks dirt. The bus arrives and Iris looks at Barry who still staring at his shoes. She gets on finally without a word.

 

Barry hesitates before jumping between the closing doors. Iris bites back a smile at his sappiness. And in silence he sits next to her on the empty bus.

 

Barry enters Iris' living quarters. He scans the room, taking in the familiar sight yet subtle differences he cannot remember from the distant past he was here.

 

Iris notices him taking everything in and regrets not having pulled her sheets before leaving that morning. She tries to busy herself by putting water on the stove.

 

Whilst Barry places his hat on the table and hovers hesitant whether Iris wants him to sit or not.

 

“I see you kept my letters.”

 

“What?” Iris eyes widens as she spins around, Barry was looking at the letters

 

Iris had placed on top an old shoebox under the stool by her bed. She’d had yet to put the ones she’d been reading away. She flushed as Barry smiles satisfied.

“I’m glad.”

 

 

“What went wrong, Barry?”

 

“I screwed up.” He sighs then, truly dejected. “If I had died, no secrets would’ve been lost, no wars affected. I would’ve just died. Instead I was selfish.” Iris frowns, eyebrows pulling together.

 

Barry relives the moment he’s clasping his side, writhing in pain. Until he stops when he enters survival mode, don’t move, act dead, and fight through the pain. But the soldier comes over to check if he’s dead and most likely steal his supplies as he start checking his pockets.

 

The pulls out the letter from his breast pocket and through hooded eyes, Barry grunts. The soldier grabs the gun hanging on his back.

 

He needed to get home, he wanted to see Iris again, and he had hopes to marry her, build a family, and kiss her every chance he got. In that moment that’s all he thought about, he doesn’t hesitate he shoots and in the bottom of his eyesight sees the green uniformed man drop.

 

Then came the thought that this man was probably just like him with a love, a wife maybe or even a family. So many thoughts ran through his head as he waited and eventually passed out waiting for help.

 

For a moment, he was the only the only with something to protect. And unsurprisingly these moments came more than once for Barry. “I went against everything I thought I was. You don’t deserve me.”

 

Iris walks over and wraps his arms around Barry pulling him in to her abdomen; he realizes he’s crying.

 

He clutches the material of her skirt and Iris lets him shed his tears. She pulls away and Barry looks up at her. She crouches down and cradles his face, “You’re still you Barry,” He leans into her touch and she smiles softly.

Barry leans forward and meets her lips. His resolve just crumbles at her touch.

 

“I really should tell you about the last few years.”

“When you’re ready.” Iris whispers, resting her forehead against his.

 

 

“Why would you keep it from me? Lulu! Mr. Allen has a nice mug if I do say so myself. I can see why you’re keen.” Linda was on a rant and Iris just sat back and listened. “Are you two rationed? Are you two going to get hitched?”

Iris dryly chuckles and forgoes those questions. Linda rolls her eyes.

 

“Come on Iris.” Linda whines, “It must be tough for you. Spill so I can bring out my excellent advice giving side.”

 

Iris gave a tight-lipped smile, her mind wandering back to Barry’s promise before he left.


	10. Losing out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I always apologise in this note for taking forever to update. But that’s because I do. But please enjoy and tell me what you think.

 

_May 1946_

It falls back to normal in a sense. Barry comes over some nights just to have dinner and talk. And sometimes simply be in the presence of each other as they go about their normal activities.

 

Iris is writing an article for the paper when Barry finally chooses tells Iris about what he’s been through. He tries to not be a mess but the tears and yelling at himself, he couldn’t avoid it. When he finally gets to the day he was shot and subsequently ended someone life he falls quiet. Iris holds him then telling him words of comfort, taking away his fears in that moment and letting him cry into the material of her skirt. “It became infected, I was with medics for months. That was the time I stopped writing.” He finally admits, “I couldn’t…”

Iris sighs finally having a reason, she doesn’t blame him like Barry thinks, instead he slowly pulls his shirt out of his trousers and its lifts it to his abdomen. Barry closes his eyes as Iris fingers gently slide over his scar, “Is it ok now?”

 

He nods. “I’m okay.”

 

After a while of soft stares and sharing their lives over the last few years, Barry looks at the typewriter still sitting on the table. He finally stands, “I should go.” He whispers finally content and feeling a little lighter.

Barry shuffles around in an awkward manner looking for his hat, trying not to disturb her further. He is exhausted and sleepy but gently says goodbye after kissing her forehead and putting his coat back on.

 

“Stay…” Iris says, looking up.

 

Barry blinks and takes an intake of breath, “Umm… I might miss the last bus.”

Iris sheepishly smiles and tilts her head, “Barry… you’re tired. Just go to sleep.”

 

He easily relents slipping of his hat again before falling onto her bed.

 

Barry soon falls asleep to the steady sound of her typewriter as Iris returns to writing under the candlelight. This was her nightly routine and before finally heading to bed. It was normal, safe and a little lonely. But there’s a sense of lightness and contentment she hasn’t felt in a while having Barry here.

 

Late in the night, Barry is woken as the bed dips as Iris lies down next to him. He can feel her shoulders brush his. He turns and faces her with a soft smile.

Iris lips lift back and she places her hands on either side of his face pushing the stray strands back of his mussed hair. She pecks his tired face and closes her eyes.

 

“I love you Iris…” He whispers.

“Hmm…” she hums, “I love you too Barry.”

“I said I’d ask again and...”

“Barry…” she has a feeling what he would say and as he holds her and lets her head rest on his chest as she hugs his waist. She didn’t want to tell him it wasn’t a good idea.

Barry hummed and fell asleep with her.

_August 1946_  
  


Linda smirks knowingly seeing them walking within steps of one another, together but on their own. She says nothing, and just grabs Iris’ arm walking the rest of the way to work with her friend.

 

After Iris and Linda get to her desk, Linda moves aside the notes and plops herself right in the middle. She could sense Iris was still thinking about something as she dragged her in.

 

“What’s eating you?”

 

“Nothing.” Iris shrugs. Her small friend just gives her a look back and Iris caved, “I’m pretty sure Barry would like to get married.”

 

“That’s swell! Wait, don’t you want to get hitched to Allen?”

 

“It’s going to be hard. It’s not only that people will know and affect how people look at him at work, on the street. What about my work? It’s also hard to have everything we would imagine when we get married. What about Children? I don’t want him to lose out on anything he deserves. I really do love him, Linda.”

 

She rambles all her worries finally able to let it out to someone, Linda places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aw, you’re sweet Iris but completely daft. I’m going to give you my two cents worth. We’re lucky; we live in a state where it’s possible for you and Allen to be married.” She paused for a quick breath, “And even it all isn’t sunshine, I’m sure that Barry Allen would be more worried about losing you the most, rather than anything else. So stop being spooked by the idea and just do what you really want.” Linda was firm and she didn’t feel bad about it. They were both similar; being working women that strived to be independent and if she was honest with herself, she wouldn’t throw any of that away for a man, but it was clear to her how much the two were in love.

 

Iris takes a deep intake of breath and then smiles up at Linda, grateful for her advice.

 

“Will you ladies stop flapping your lips and get on with some work?” the toupee reporter says with disdain as he purposely passes Iris’ desk despite the fact they were early.

Linda made a face at Iris.

 

Barry is usually a timid man, not violent or confronting. So Iris is taken back when he slugs a man right in the jaw one night. They are going home after grabbing supper at the diner with Linda and Barry. It was less inconspicuous if a group were eating, less cause for alarm. His tall thin frame looking like paper next to the gorilla but carrying enough force to knock him back.

 

“Barry!”

“You’re going to be sorry.” He wiped his lip, which had a spot of blood and stared Barry down.

 

It was late and it wasn’t unusual to see sauced men making their way from one place to another. Barry had made Iris walk beside him towards the inner sidewalk, even though not as much light reached from the dim streetlights. This man had purposefully and very sloppily maneuvered around Barry and stopped to make a pass at Iris. When Iris refused the advances, things escalated.

 

“Call her that again and I’m afraid you’re the one going to be sorry.”

 

Iris pulls Barry by the arm quickly away from the situation. The man too sauced to realize where’d they’d gone in the dark.

 

Barry turns around to make sure he didn’t follow them around the corner and they get on the next bus.

 

“I think I broke my hand,” he chuckles quietly. Iris gently lifts it and inspects it so close under basically no light, presses it gently to gauge Barry’s reaction.

 

“Not broken.” She sighs, “You’re a complete fool. I know how to handle myself.”

 

“Don’t let them get under your skin.” Iris shakes her head; it was just like Barry to worry about her.

 

Iris pulls at Barry’s lapels even though they can hardly see each other’s faces except for the instances the bus passes close to a street lamp. Their noses bump but soon she finds his lips. She can feel his heartbeat on her knuckle, which is still holding his jacket, and she moves slowly to his face.

 

He lets out a shaky exhale and after a moment takes her hand then and kisses the back slowly. “Iris. Would you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is most likely going to be the second last chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me and I'll try to update as soon as I can.


	11. A sense of ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the people who kept me motivated and stuck with this story despite me taking forever with each update. I had so much more I was going to write as the ending but I was taking forever to add it so I just finished it here. I may add them later as extra epilogues.

August 1946  
Iris bites her lip and lets Barry hold onto her hand. Her eyes soften after the initial shock as she makes out his kind eyes in the dark.  
“I want to say yes.”  
“Then do.” He smiles widely at her initial thoughts.  
“Barry…” She says in a whisper, “It would be too hard. You deserve someone wonderful who you can have a beautiful life with.”  
“That’s good, because you’re the best person I know, Iris. I can’t imagine having a even remotely close to a beautiful life without you. You’re everything to me.”

Barry’s words makes Iris sincerely smile and she is at a loss of how to say she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, with their differences, what people will think and the obvious difficulty they’ll have raising any future children in this world, she can’t say anything when Barry is so good at sweet-talking her.

“But if the reason isn’t about you thinking about my future prospects and it’s really because you don’t want to marry me…” he’s sad at the thought, but prepared to accept it. He looks past her, “Isn’t that your stop?”  
“What? Iris looks over her shoulder and realises she’s missed the corner of her street. “Come on Barry.”  
Pulling him to his feet by the same hand that hadn’t let go of hers, they hurry to the front of the bus.

“Sorry sir, I need to get off. Missed the street” Iris bows her head and politely says to the bus driver whose about to turn another corner.  
“Both of you?” he looks at Barry and Iris and lowers his eyes back to the wheel.  
Iris lets go of Barry’s hand. Barry looks at Iris, confused, he pulled her up so she still wanted to talk, right? 

“Yes both of us.” Barry says sternly and the bus driver shrugs and pulls aside.  
Barry walks in step with Iris, just as he’s always tended to as they get off and starting covering the distance back to her place.

“I do want to marry you Barry.” She says finally at her door lifting her head and stopping to stare at his side profile. “I really do.”  
It takes a few more seconds for him to register those words, a huge smile breaking out.  
“Wait, are you saying yes?”

She pulls Barry’s sleeve to tell him to stop smiling and go in. “I’m saying Mr. Allen. I love you a whole lot.” She says scrunching her face, embarrassed at herself by Barry’s dorky grin.

“I love you so much Iris.” He says lifting her tiny waist into a hug. Iris held in Barry’s arms leans back to place his lips on her own. He carries her in, feet hovering off the ground as they smile, kiss and then giggle as they bang right into Iris’ table. He finally puts her down and they’re looking at each other again.

They’re passionate kisses eventually led them to bed where it wasn’t shy like the first time, for Iris, Barry was home, he made her feel safe and loved. He wanted to marry Barry.

 

They were at the newspaper’s office again, Barry bringing a packed lunch. Whoever had asked why Mr. Allen had returned for lunch with Ms. West got the answer, “looking at how my replacement’s been doing since I’ve been gone.”  
Barry didn’t care about the eyebrow raises he got but he got annoyed at the one reporter with the obvious toupee who after four years, the name no longer registered in his mind, said that maybe he should just come back then. 

Iris however gave Linda a glare when she giggles at Barry telling Mr. Bridge he was visiting the old paper.

“Okay… you’re not working for a rival paper are you?”  
“No Sir, just back with the law sir.”  
“Ok West. Lunch then I need you at the docks.”

“I’ll have to leave soon, Miss. West as well. Work also beckons.”  
She smiles at him sweetly when he jokingly whispered calling her Mrs Allen, but said nothing. He went on being the oblivious guy he clearly was and said “you can still be a West for your father and brother, Mrs West-Allen.” As soon as he said it, her smile faltered but she regained it as if she was unaffected. Barry frowned in confusion leaning across the table.

Iris was very good at internalising her feelings for the sake of others. He realised when she was so prepared to break it off with him despite it being his entire fault. And yet again, he sensed there was something wrong the following weeks after he proposed.

“Hmm…”

“Does your father know about who I am?” He was trying to guess, but he knew he was on the nose.

Iris was silent hoping Barry would assume she needed to return to work.  
But a pestering groan of her name, she answered him.

“My dad knows you exist, he found your letters. Wally knows you exist too, just doesn’t know anything about you… They’re going to blow a fuse.” She rubbed her forehead in frustration, she loved her family and if they didn’t like Barry, she had no idea what to do. She finally looked at him and noticed his eyes glimmer with thought. “I don’t want to hear your brainchild,” looking around to make sure no one was around to hear the manner in which they were speaking.

“Hear me out.”

“Sorry Mr. Allen,” the sudden formality alerted to Barry he had struck a chord and he didn’t quite want to let it go, “thankyou for the lunch, I’ve got to go to now.” 

“I’ll accompany you.”

“I’m perfectly capable…”

“I’m on your way Iris.”

 

September 1946  
Barry had in the end being unnervingly convincing, he was almost as stubborn as she was. Iris was so adamant on saying no, but somehow they were now on at the doorstep to her homestead as she took a deep breath.

“Iris!! My beautiful girl.” Joe exclaims happily pulling her into a hug, and smiling profusely until he noticed the tall well dressed stranger in a woven suit and his best bowtie. He narrowed his eyes remembering Iris’ lover he’d discovered on his last visit to Central City, and in a grunt said, “this the jerk reporter?”  
“He’s not a jerk!” Iris defends him.  
“Barry Allen, Sir. Scene analyst with the Central City Police Department.” Joe heartly chuckles at how Barry brushes off the jerk comment choosing to correct his job instead.

“Well I’m Head Detective at my police department and it wasn’t as easy as it was for you.”

“Dad. Barry’s been through enough. You don’t need to badger him.”  
“What? He can change careers at the drop of a hat? And I’m meant to be believe it’s been even a little hard for this fellow.” Mr. West just rolled his eyes and then finally invited Barry in. “Well come in then. At least something’s brought my daughter home.” He had the stray thought to leave him out then in the late summer night, it could get pretty cold.

“I’m sorry for not coming as often, Dad. I missed you.”  
“I missed you too darling.” Joe softens at Iris’ composure offering them a seat.  
“We have something to talk to you about.”  
Joe had a sneaking suspicion what it may be about and he wasn’t prepared at all.

After hearing that Iris’ wanted to marry the boy she brought home, Joe said nothing. He didn’t say it was okay or if was against it. He simply ignored it and went about his business. Telling Iris to show Barry around where she had grown up.

She had finally had enough by the time dinner rolled around and her father had buried the topic. And Barry squeezed her hand to calm her.

Wally emerged through the front door as well as the dusk started to set in an instantly looked over at Iris and Barry. He then looked at his dad who took a spoon to his mouth

“The soldier?” Wally exclaimed directing the question at Iris. This was the man she was pining over?

“Barry Allen. Runner…” He began to state different from how he greeted Joe.  
“Oh we watched out for your backs. Fighter pilot.” Wally was so proud as he pointed to himself, and could see a fellow comrade in Barry. At least that was one good impression made.

Iris looked at her father who was in thought staring at his complete family.

“Ace!!” Wally wrapped Iris in a big hug as greeting distracting her and making her breakout in a wide grin.  
“What’s my baby brother been doing?”

Joe smiled at his two beautiful kids and wondered how he should react to the stranger that they both seemed to just let in.

“Barry? Why don’t you and I let these two rag on each other for a while and you have a drink with me?”

Iris looked at Barry who smiled in reassurance and they headed off to the back of their modest sized house.

Barry took a sip of the aged whiskey Joe poured out for him and gathered the courage for what he wanted to say, “I love Ir…”  
“Can’t change Iris’ mind when it’s set.” He sighed exasperatedly thinking to himself, Barry could tell though that Joe loved his daughter immensely and was still extremely proud of her. “And she’s a smart cookie that one, she always makes the right choice. You can now speak.”  
“I love Iris very much. She is smart. She’s also stubborn, strong and beautiful and kind. She a million times better than me and I am so lucky that she loves me too. She’s everything to me. My father died while I was still stationed.”  
“Uh huh.” Joe nods taking a sip. “She is all that.” He scoffed as if he had meant that as an insult to Barry. Then his gruff face softened, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. But you do seem like a good guy and Iris adores everything about you… “ After a long silence where Barry was unsure whether to take another sip, “You’re off the hook, for now.”

Iris never knew what Joe and Barry talked about but Wally also had a conversation with him later that she again was not privy too. Although days later, she got it out of Barry. She had burst out laughing at the fact that apparently Wally referred to him as a ‘wolf’.

“You’ve always been my brave headstrong girl.” Joe kisses her forehead saying goodbye to his daughter as she returns home, “My beautiful little girl.”  
Iris had never heard her dad’s voice break so it was a shock for her. “Dad…”  
“I’m happy if you are.”  
“I am.”  
“We’ll join you in a week then.”  
“I’d love that.”  
A small content smile is shared between them as Barry collects their bags and gives Iris her moment.

 

With just three people in Iris’ small apartment, it feels even smaller. But Iris didn’t care; Central City didn’t feel so lonely anymore. 

Joe and Wally made the trip for the wedding. 

Barry returned that night after stealing a kiss in the hallway after dinner and leaving Iris to dream about him.

Iris gets ready that morning, in a sort of daze that it was actually happening.

She doesn’t put the dress on till she reaches the small town hall. Looking at herself now, this was the most beautiful dress Iris has ever remembered owning. It was nothing fancy or expensive just a plain light cream colored almost white dress that stops at her ankles. But it meant this was happening; she was marrying Barry Allen, a thought that made her smile for the millionth time that day.

Linda insisted on being there. She brought wildflowers arranged into a beautiful bouquet for Iris. She pulled out a few and placed some in Iris’ hair. 

“Perfect. Mr. Allen is so lucky to have you Iris.” 

Barry stands in front of the hall with the minister. He pulls at his sleeves of his suit jacket and fixes his bowtie once again that day and then finally returns to rubbing his palms together. There was only about half a dozen guests, including his two friends and batch mates from college and Linda. He wishes his father were here, he would had heard so much about Iris and was so happy for his son before Barry left for the war. He closes his eyes so he would not cry. But when he opens them, he thinks of his mother, she would’ve loved Iris. 

Wally and Linda are chattering by his side.

He’s standing there a bundle of nerves. But everything fades when the doors open and the wedding march starts to play.

Barry was holding his breath when Iris walks into the room on the arm of her father. 

She smiles when they catch each other’s eyes and Barry can’t look away. Oh god, she was beautiful. When Iris hand brushes his as she takes her place next to him, he couldn’t help himself and his eyes well up. Iris gives his hand a squeeze and they share another not so secret smile.

The calm finally sets in after a long busy day. Iris takes off her heels and stands in front of her husband, a feeling so new to her, and helps him take off his bowtie.  
Iris holding on to the ends pulls Barry’s neck down, “Who knew you’d be the one to change my mind about marriage?”  
“I knew. I was stuck on you the day we met, Iris. I knew I wanted to marry you then.” He took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry for making you ever doubt how much you meant to me.” 

“I love you so much. Mr. Barry Allen.”

“And I love you, Mrs. Iris West-Allen.”


End file.
